Part 13 (1/2)
On the second day, accompanied by Mijwell, I visited a large mound called Mijdel, on the right bank of the river about five miles above Umjerjeh. It is a lofty platform, surrounded by groups of smaller mounds, amongst which may still be traced the lines of streets and ca.n.a.ls. It is about four or five miles from the ridge of Abd-ul-Azeez. These low hills, scantily wooded with dwarf oak, are broken into innumerable valleys and ravines, which abound, it is said, with wild goats, boars, leopards, and other animals. According to my Bedouin informants, the ruins of ancient towns and villages still exist, but they could only give me the name of one, Zakkarah. On the opposite side of the Khabour, and running parallel with the Abd-ul-Azeez range, is another line of small hills, called Hamma, in which there are many wells.
The Shammar Bedouins encamp on the banks of this part of the Khabour during the hot months. The mound of Mijdel is a favorite resort of the Boraij in the ”eye of the summer:” the waters of the river are always cool, and there is sufficient pasture for the flocks and herds of the whole tribe.
An Arab whom I met in the tent of one of the Hyta-Bas.h.i.+s, pretended that he was well acquainted with the ruins called _Verhan-Shehr_[131], of which I had so frequently heard from the natives of Mardin and the Shammar. He described them as being on a hill three days distant from our encampment, and to consist of columns, buildings, and sculptured stones like those of Palmyra.
In the evening Mohammed Emin left us. Suleiman Agha had already invested him with a robe of honor, and had prevailed upon him to join with Ferhan in taking measures for the recovery of the plundered treasure. The scarlet cloak and civil treatment had conciliated the Jebour chief, and when he parted with the Turkish commander in my tent there was an unusual display of mutual compliments and pledges of eternal friends.h.i.+p. Mijwell looked on with indignant contempt, swearing between his teeth that all Jebours were but degenerate, ploughing Arabs, and cursing the whole order of _temminahs_.[132]
We were detained at Umjerjeh several days by the severe illness of Mr.
Hormuzd Ra.s.sam. I took the opportunity to visit the tents of the Milli, whose chief, Mousa Agha, had invited us to a feast. The s.p.a.cious tent of the chief was divided by part.i.tions of reeds tastefully interwoven with colored wool. The coolest part of the salamlik had been prepared for our reception, and was spread with fine carpets and silken cus.h.i.+ons. The chief and his brothers, followed by their servants bearing trays loaded with cups, presented the coffee to their guests.
After some conversation we went to the harem, and were received by his mother, a venerable lady, with long silvery locks and a dignified countenance and demeanor. Her dress was of the purest white and scrupulously clean. Altogether she was almost the only comely woman I had seen amongst Eastern tribes. The wives and daughters of the chiefs, with a crowd of women, were collected in the tent; but it was evident, at a glance, that they were of a different race from the wandering tribes of the Desert.
The princ.i.p.al ladies led us into the private compartment, divided by colored screens from the rest of the tent. It was furnished with more than usual luxury. The cus.h.i.+ons were of the choicest silk, and the carpets (in the manufacture of which the Milli excel) of the best fabric. Sweetmeats and coffee had been prepared for us, and the women did not object to partake of them at the same time. Mousa Agha's mother described the various marriage ceremonies of the tribe. Our account of similar matters in Europe excited great amus.e.m.e.nt amongst the ladies. The Milli girls are highly prized by the Kurds. Twenty purses, nearly 100_l._, we were boastingly told, had been given for one of unusual attractions. The chief pointed out one of his own wives who had cost him that sum. Other members of the same establishment had deserved a less extravagant invest.i.ture of money. The prettiest girls were called before us, and the old lady appraised each, amidst the loud laughter of their companions, who no doubt rejoiced to see their friends valued at their true worth. They were all tatooed on the arms, and on other parts of the body, but less so than the Bedouin ladies. The Kurdish ladies do not, like the Mussulman women of the town, conceal their features with a veil; nor do they object to mingle, or even eat, with the men. During my stay at Umjerjeh I invited the harem of the Chichi chief, and their friends, to a feast in my tent--an invitation they accepted with every sign of satisfaction.
The Milli were formerly one of the wealthiest Kurdish tribes; but they were wantonly plundered, and almost reduced to want, by the Turkish troops three years ago. Although the Porte openly condemned the outrage, and had promised compensation, no step whatever had been taken to restore the stolen property, the greater part of which had pa.s.sed into the government treasury.
Mijwell, during our visit, had been seated in a corner, his eyes wandering from the tent and its furniture to the horses and mares picketed without, and to the flocks pasturing around. He cast, every now and then, significant glances towards me, which said plainly enough, ”All this ought to belong to the Bedouins. These people and their property were made for _ghazous_.” As we rode away I accused him of evil intentions. ”Billah, ya Bej!” said he, ”there is, indeed, enough to make a man's heart grow white with envy; but I have now eaten his bread under your shadow, and should even his stick, wherewith he drives his camel, fall into my hand, I would send it to him.” He entertained me, as we returned home, with the domestic affairs of his family. Rathaiyah had offered herself in marriage to Suttum, and not he to her; a common proceeding, it would appear, among the Bedouins. Mijwell rather looked upon his brother with pity, as a henpecked husband. He himself, although already married to one wife, and betrothed to Maizi, whom he would soon be able to claim, was projecting a third marriage. His heart had been stolen by an unseen damsel, whose beauties and virtues had been the theme of some wandering Arab rhymers, and she was of the Fedhan Aneyza, the mortal enemies of the Shammar. Her father was the sheikh of the tribe, and his tents were on the other side of the Euphrates. The difficulties and dangers of the courts.h.i.+p served only to excite still more the ardent mind of the Bedouin. His romantic imagination had pictured a perfection of loveliness; his whole thoughts were now occupied in devising the means of possessing this treasure.[133] He had already apprised the girl of his love by a trusty messenger, one of her own tribe, living with the Shammar, and she had, at last, promised him her hand, if he could claim her in her own tent. Mijwell had now planned a scheme which he was eager to put into execution. Waiting until the Fedhan were so encamped that he could approach them without being previously seen, he would mount his deloul, and leading his best mare, ride to the tent of the girl's father. Meat would, of course, be laid before him, and having eaten he would be the guest, and under the protection of the Sheikh. On the following morning he would present his mare, describing her race and qualities, to his host, and ask his daughter; offering, at the same time, to add any other gift that might be thought worthy of her. The father, who would probably not be ignorant of what had pa.s.sed between the lovers, would at once consent to the union, and give back the mare to his future son-in-law. The marriage would shortly afterwards be solemnised, and an alliance would thus be formed between the two tribes. Such was Mijwell's plan, and it was one not unfrequently adopted by Bedouins under similar circ.u.mstances.
The laws of Dakheel, another very remarkable branch of Bedouin legislation, in force amongst the Shammar, are nearly the same as those of the Aneyza and Hedjaz Arabs, of which Burckhardt has given so full and interesting an account. I have little, therefore, to add upon the subject, but its importance demands a few words. No customs are more religiously respected by the true Arab than those regulating the mutual relations of the protected and protector. A violation of Dakheel (as this law is called) would be considered a disgrace not only upon the individual but upon his family, and even upon his tribe, which never could be wiped out. No greater insult can be offered to a man, or to his clan, than to say that he has broken the Dakheel. A disregard of this sacred obligation is the first symptom of degeneracy in an Arab tribe; and when once it exists, the treachery and vices of the Turk rapidly succeed to the honesty and fidelity of the true Arab character. The relations between the Dakheel and the Dakhal (or the protector and protected) arise from a variety of circ.u.mstances, the princ.i.p.al of which are, eating a man's salt and bread, and claiming his protection by doing certain acts, or repeating a certain formula of words. Amongst the Shammar, if a man can seize the end of a string or thread, the other end of which is held by his enemy, he immediately becomes his Dakheel. If he touch the canvas of a tent, or can even throw his mace towards it, he is the Dakheel of its owner. If he can spit upon a man, or touch any article belonging to him with his teeth, he is Dakhal, unless of course, in case of theft, it be the person who caught him. A woman can protect any number of persons, or even of tents.[134] If a horseman ride into a tent, he and his horse are Dakhal. A stranger who has eaten with a Shammar, can give Dakheel to his enemy; for instance, I could protect an Aneyza, though there is blood between his tribe and the Shammar. According to Mijwell, any person, by previously calling out ”Nuffo” (I renounce), may reject an application for Dakheel.
An Arab who has given his protection to another, whether formally, or by an act which confers the privilege of Dakheel, is bound to protect his Dakhal under all circ.u.mstances, even to the risk of his own property and life. I could relate many instances of the greatest sacrifices having been made by individuals, and even of whole tribes having been involved in war with powerful enemies by whom they have been almost utterly destroyed, in defence of this most sacred obligation. Even the Turkish rulers respect a law to which they may one day owe their safety, and more than one haughty Pasha of Baghdad has found refuge and protection in the tent of a poor Arab Sheikh, whom, during the days of his prosperity, he had subjected to every injury and wrong, and yet who would then defy the government itself, and risk his very life, rather than surrender his guest. The essence of Arab virtue is a respect for the laws of hospitality, of which the Dakheel in all its various forms is but a part.
Amongst the Bedouins who watched our camels was one Saoud, a poet of renown amongst the tribes. With the exception of a few ballads that he had formerly composed in honor of Sof.u.k, and other celebrated Shammar Sheikhs, he chiefly recited extemporary stanzas on pa.s.sing events, or on persons who were present. He would sit in my tent of an evening, and sing his verses in a wild, though plaintive, strain, to the great delight of the a.s.sembled guests, and particularly of Mijwell, who, like a true Bedouin, was easily affected by poetry, especially with such as might touch his own pa.s.sion for the unknown lady. When the bard improvised an amatory ditty, the young chief's excitement was almost beyond control. The other Bedouins were scarcely less moved by these rude measures, which have the same kind of effect on the wild tribes of the Persian mountains. Such verses, chanted by their self-taught poets, or by the girls of their encampment, will drive warriors to the combat, fearless of death, or prove an ample reward on their return from the dangers of the _ghazou_ or the fight. The excitement they produce exceeds that of the grape. He who would understand the influence of the Homeric ballads in the heroic ages, should witness the effect which similar compositions have upon the wild nomades of the East. The art of improvising seems innate in the Bedouin. Although his metre and mode of recitation are rude to European ears, his rich and sonorous language lends itself to this species of poetry, whilst his exuberant imagination furnishes him with endless beautiful and appropriate allegories. The wars between the tribes, the _ghazou_, and their struggles with the Turks, are inexhaustible themes for verse, and in an Arab tent there is little else to afford excitement or amus.e.m.e.nt. The Bedouins have no books; even a Koran is seldom seen amongst them: it is equally rare to find a wandering Arab who can read. They have no written literature, and their traditional history consists of a little more than the tales of a few storytellers who wander from encampment to encampment, and earn their bread by chanting verses to the monotonous tones of a one-stringed fiddle made of a gourd covered with sheep-skin.
The day of our departure now drew nigh, and Suleiman Agha, to do us honor, invited us to a general review of the irregular troops under his command.
The hors.e.m.e.n of the Milli and Chichi Kurds, and of the Arab tribes who encamped with them, joined the Turkish cavalry, and added to the interest and beauty of the display. The Hyta-Bas.h.i.+s were, as usual, resplendent in silk and gold. There were some high-bred horses in the field; but the men, on the whole, were badly mounted, and the irregular cavalry is daily degenerating throughout the empire. The Turkish Government have unwisely neglected a branch of their national armies to which they owed most of their great victories, and at one time their superiority over all their neighbours. The abolition of the Spahiliks, and other military tenures, has, of course, contributed much to this result, and has led to the deterioration of that excellent breed of horses which once distinguished the Ottoman light cavalry. No effort is now made by the government to keep up the race, and the scanty pay of the irregular troops is not sufficient to enable them to obtain even second-rate animals. Everything has been sacrificed to the regular army, undoubtedly an essential element of national defence; but in a future war the Turks will probably find reason to regret that they have altogether sacrificed it to the ancient irregular horse.
The Kurds, although enc.u.mbered by their long flowing garments and huge turbans, are not bad hors.e.m.e.n. Mijwell, however, as he scanned the motley crowd with his eagle eye, included them all in one expression of ineffable contempt.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Volcanic Cone of Koukab.]
CHAPTER XV.
DEPARTURE FROM THE KHABOUR.--ARAB SAGACITY.--THE HOL.--THE LAKE OF KHATOUNIYAH.--RETURN OF SUTTUM.--ENCAMPMENT OF THE SHAMMAR.--ARAB HORSES.--THEIR BREEDS.--THEIR VALUE.--THEIR SPEED.--SHEIKH FERHAN.--YEZIDI VILLAGES.--FALCONS.--AN ALARM. ABOU MARIA.--ESKI MOSUL.--ARRIVAL AT MOSUL.--RETURN OF SUTTUM TO THE DESERT.
Mr. Hormuzd Ra.s.sam having sufficiently recovered from his dangerous illness to be able to ride a deloul, and no remains, except pottery and bricks, having been discovered in the mounds of Umjerjeh, we left the encampment of Suleiman Agha on the 29th of April, on our return to Mosul.
We again visited the remarkable volcanic cone of Koukab. As we drew near to it, Mijwell detected, in the loose soil, the footprints of two men, which he immediately recognised to be those of Shammar thieves returning from the Kurdish encampments. The sagacity of the Bedouin in determining from such marks, whether of man or beast, and, from similar indications, the tribe, time of pa.s.sing, and business, of those who may have left them, with many other particulars, is well known. In this respect he resembles the American Indian, though the circ.u.mstances differ under which the two are called upon to exercise this peculiar faculty. The one seeks or avoids his enemy in vast plains, which, for three-fourths of the year, are without any vegetation; the other tracks his prey through thick woods and high gra.s.s. The quickness of perception is the result of continual observation and of caution encouraged from earliest youth. Whilst the child in a civilised country is still under the care of its nurse, the Bedouin boy is compelled to exercise his highest faculties, and on his prudence and sagacity may sometimes depend the safety of his tribe.
The expert Bedouin can draw conclusions from the footprints and dung of animals that would excite the astonishment of an European. He will tell whether the camel was loaded or unloaded, whether recently fed or suffering from hunger, whether fatigued or fresh, the time when it pa.s.sed by, whether the owner was a man of the desert or of the town, whether a friend or foe, and sometimes even the name of his tribe.
We encamped for the night near the mound of Thenenir, and resumed our journey on the following morning. Bidding farewell to the pleasant banks of the Khabour, we struck into the Desert in the direction of the Sinjar.
Extensive beds of gypsum, or alabaster, such as was used in the a.s.syrian edifices, formed for some miles the surface of the plain. We soon approached a dense ma.s.s of reeds and rank herbage, covering a swamp called the Hol, which extends from the Lake of Khatouniyah to within a short distance of the Khabour. This jungle is the hiding-place of many kinds of wild beasts: lions lurk in it, and in the thick cover the Bedouins find their cubs.
During our journey an Arab joined us, riding on a deloul, with his wife.
His two children were crammed into a pair of saddle-bags, a black head peeping out of either side. He had quarrelled with his kinsmen, and was moving with his family and little property to another tribe.